Before everything fell apart, before jealousy and lies, there was only hope.
My name is Zhepanie Delavin, but everyone calls me Zheppy. This is my story.
Sixteen years ago, inside a bright hospital room filled with white curtains and soft crying sounds, my mom gave birth to twin girls. Angelica came out first. I followed after a few minutes. The nurses smiled and told my parents, "Two beautiful princesses."
We were not identical. Angelica had slightly darker hair, and I had softer features. But my mom said we both had the same eyes — eyes full of light.
My parents were one of the richest families in the city. The Delavins. Business owners. Powerful. Known. But that night, they were not business people. They were just happy parents.
But happiness did not last long.
A woman in the hospital had just lost her baby during birth. She was alone. Broken. Desperate. While everyone was busy, she went inside the nursery room.
And she took Angelica.
No one noticed until it was too late.
There were cameras, police, investigations — but no trace. The woman disappeared like smoke.
My parents searched for years. They hired private investigators. They offered rewards. They never stopped hoping.
But as time passed, they only had me.
They raised me like their princess. My older brother protected me like a knight. I had everything — love, money, comfort.
But even as a child, I sometimes felt something missing.
A shadow beside me that should have been there.
I grew up hearing stories about my twin sister. "She would've loved this dress too." "You two would've fought over this toy." I would smile, but deep inside, I wondered where she was.
Was she safe? Was she loved?
Or was she alone?